


Guro Idol! Story of Nightmares

by Pearly_Pornography



Series: Guro Idol [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Gratuitous violence of all kinds, Guro, Multi, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-03-02
Packaged: 2018-05-16 03:50:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 8,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5812750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pearly_Pornography/pseuds/Pearly_Pornography
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So it returns. Remake of my old, deliciously mediocre and horribly violent story "Guro Idol! Story of Dreams".</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hey! I love you! ❤

**Author's Note:**

> Chika belongs to a friend on Tumblr.  
> Checkers also belongs to someone else but was. Given to me I guess.  
> The rest are mine.
> 
> Some characters from the original were removed due to a lack of permission for their use.
> 
> Guro Idol is a series, so before starting this, I'd suggest reading the G.I. Rulebook. Reading the original iteration of this story, "Guro Idol! Story of Dreams" is optional.

Hello! I am Pinky Pinky, your digital idol buddy! Let me tell you about our facility.

I'd suggest reading the rules before continuing. It should be somewhere in my programming. ❤ 

Now, if you've been accepted into the Guro Idol company, this means only one thing: You are part of the Adolescent Immortality Phenomenon, commonly known as AIP. This means that, at any age between 12 and 18, you suddenly stopped physically aging. You'd be injured or mutilated and somehow turn out fine mere hours later with barely a scratch on you. This means you're perfect for our company!

Guro Idol produces live adult shows, for those with more taboo interests. The limits of AIP are insane, and a person can reform so long as one full organ is entirely intact. Thus, those with this condition can endure extensive mutilation, torture, and pain, while displaying the same reactions as a normal human would.

AIP became all the rage among those who enjoy two things: Violence, and younger folks. Two inaccessible commodities among sexual deviants now combined into single entities. Many of these children were assaulted, and due to poor foresight, those who kidnapped them usually ended up in prison for their actions. However, the owner of Guro Idol, miss Lisette C*****, saw an opportunity to spice up her life.

She pooled millions of dollars worth of her family's money into starting this company without her parents notice, under the guise of an innocent telephone club. However, during the nights, the scum of the earth will come and view our idols being maimed and violated. Prices run high - we're basically running a red room, after all - and we make quite a bit of money on our nightly shows. You'll also receive your own cut, as discussed in the rulebook.

Now if you break any rules, as well as obvious unwritten ones like that you can't assault our personnel, you'll receive thorough punishment. Imagine doing what you do normally here. Now imagine doing it unpaid. Our basement worker Mallory loves working with hooks and barbed wire, among other things. It generally runs until you either repent or are running out of body parts to destroy.

As for your shows, you'll generally be part of a newbies show with other brand new idols. You have introduction scripts to memorize, and you may scan your script into your Electronic Identification so I can tell you where to walk/stand and what to do during each show. I'm your best friend!

Your weekly schedule will be handed in by our producers, Mars, May and Moon. If they're absent or busy, Mallory will take his place. Trust me, you'll know 'em when you see 'em. ❤ They always introduce themselves properly.

If you need anymore information, check the PinkyPedia or rulebook for extra help! Talking to your producers can also help. Mars can be a bit temperamental, but he'll answer questions. If he's having one of his off days, May and Moon tend to be on the more agreeable end. But that's all I have to tell you for now.

Good luck out there, darling! Break a leg! ❤


	2. Breakfast is the Worst!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Top idol Sen finds she's temperamental at these hours.

"Hey! Git up, I won't tell you twice!" 

Sen rubbed her bleary eyes. She had a cramp in her back from the crappy mattresses, and had to crack a few joints as she rose. May's gentle yet sadistic expression was sitting in the open doorway. Thus, Sen decided to roll out of bed before she was beaten.

She was high-quality meat, for certain. So popular she was ranked 5 out of 5. The only other person at that level was a slightly older boy, Checkers. Thus he was also the only person she sat with in breakfast. She stared down at her egg toast, seeming to be in deep thought.

"What seems to be troubling you, love?"

"Ruri didn't show up back at the bedroom last night. I'm worried she got in trouble."

Ruri. Her dear friend. Mars made it sound like he just wanted to talk to her, but he was unpredictable.

"Probably got exterminated. Low-quality trollop she was."

Sen clenched her fist.

"Screw you."

"Don't be like that. You and I both know..." He grabbed a cup of coffee, tipping it to his lips. "...she wasn't meant for this business." His lips curled into a ghastly smirk. Sen stared down at her lap, unable to form a response. "Besides, if she became a rank 5, why, she may just rob you of an audience."

"I don't care about audience. I just don't want to die."

"Well, of course you don't care. You're not like me. People love how domineering I am. I make a better torturer than most of the ones who work here. Girls adore that." Pearly teeth between his lips clenched into a hissing sort of laughter. "The A.I.P. gene pool would benefit from some more sadomasochists."

"'The A.I.P. gene pool'," Sen put the phrase in air quotes as she spoke, "would benefit from euthanasia at birth, if they're expected to work here." 

Checkers shook his head. She couldn't help but see him as a prosecutor in Turnabout Storm, with an expression like that. The conversation ended there, as he took another sip of his coffee, no longer looking Sen in the eye. He finally piped up after a bit, flicking through a few magazines in front of him.

"Good weather today. Might pool some credits to get outside."

"You're supposed to pay for an outside day three more days in advance."

"I'm a VIP, there's nothing I can't do."

"You can't leave."

"Why would I want to? I'm a fan favorite, and I'm doing what I love."

Sen sighed heavily. There was no knocking sense into this bastard's brain, was there? In her left hand she held her DS. Wireless was a thing here, but it was limited. One couldn't really communicate with people unless they were "in-house". So, while it wasn't very useful for web surfing, having a pokemon battle with someone across the room was always an option. She frowned slightly on finding nobody online.

What a dreary life, indeed.


	3. Clipping White Lillies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rank 2 idol Yoshika mulls over a problematic attraction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i put so much time into the "Oh My God Why Would You Do That To Yoshika" chapter that I didn't really wanna rewrite it, so I tweaked the timeline a bit and had that specific act happen in the past.

It just wasn't fair.

It started onstage. She was taken from her home and thrown out in front of a bunch of filthy apes staring her down. She was pulled out in a skimpy red dress and plastic devil horns with only one girl next to her. That girl's name was Chika.

She was just barely shorter than Chika. Chika had long, light brown hair and eyes like jasper and clay deep beneath the ground. She looked like an angel, and that wasn't accounting for the rather silly costume clearly made of spare bedsheets. On that fateful night, she was beaten, burned and screwed until her hymen probably popped out of its sockets. But somehow, with those deep, heavenly eyes staring at her with pity, Yoshika didn't feel so bad.

Something in her had changed that night. Her schizophrenic brain-mush made space for another person. Her misused heart slammed at her ribs until they bruised every time Chika walked by. It wasn't fair.

The wrench incident really cemented her feelings.

Why was Checkers such a freak? She was no good at talking to girls, so she asked a fellow person for help. He said, _if you can break your ribs with a wrench, I'll help_. Being gullible and stupid, she believed him. She asked Miss May for a wrench. She pulled him over during free hours, holding the tool in her shaking hands. He grinned and took her to the halls.

Her luck was incredible. She was almost convinced Checkers was planning to rape her, but really he was just there to see her do what she said she would. Nobody was in the hallway, most likely too busy taking advantage of the free hours. 

"Who's the one you like, anyway?" He interrupted her as she positioned the wrench's teeth around her protruding bones.

"I-I'm not tellin'!" She swiped the wrench towards his face, and he backed away. Inside, he was weighing his options. Yoshika was malleable, but also an incredibly loose cannon. He'd need to take careful steps.

"If you don't tell me, I can't help you, sweetie."

"...'s Chika..." She lowered the wrench, her face a pale red and twisted into an expression of embarrassment. How could someone so sweet also be so hideous? "She's th' only nicest person I've ever met."

"You even talk like an idiot." He snatched the wrench. "Okay. We're working together, you and me. You scratch my back, I scratch yours. So, my only price is that if I need your assistance, you'll give it to me. Are we clear?"

"...I ain't gonna complain, that sounds fine."

And so, she was bludgeoned in the chest, exactly as she swore. It hurt really bad, but she powered through, knowing the injuries would most likely heal overnight. Checkers got in a bit of trouble after being caught by Mars, however, he weaseled his way out of it, and Yoshika helped him. She _helped_ him.

She was in her bedroom late at night, examining the damage. Chika was across the room preparing for a private show with some very rich stranger. The little angel turned around and gazed at Yoshika, slapping cheap band-aids onto her chest.

"What happened to you?"

She froze. Chika came closer, staring at the misshapen bone beneath Yoshika's breast, her eyes riddled with concern. "Did you get hit by a car or something? Jesus."

"N-no, I'm good, I'm fine. Nothing to worry about." She smiled. It looked abnormal.

"Your teeth are disgusting. You'd really ought to clean them."

"Oh!" She covered her mouth. "Sorry."

"Alright, well...I guess you'll be better by tomorrow. But don't get into any fights. You're more accident prone than anyone else in this damn company." Chika resumed putting her things away. Yoshika felt a sparkle in her heart...or perhaps that was the pain of her broken ribcage.

"Checks!" She approached him, only after Chika left. He looked up, almost seeming tired of Yoshika approaching him. "You were so good, she, she...s-she cares about me!"

"Oh? Well then, I just need one little thing from you."

...Poor Ruri.

She didn't know why she agreed to do it. She never had any vendetta against Ruri, or even Sen. Yet, she did it. She spoke to Mars during the show that night, and said that Ruri had been sexually harassing her. Not to mention she also brought up her disconcertingly slow rise to fame, and said that perhaps, she wasn't cut out for this job. Mars took her thoughts into account, and Ruri was exterminated.

It just wasn't fair. Every time something good happened to her, she always ended up being hurt in the end. She hadn't done anything, and it wasn't fair. She loved Chika, and it wasn't fair.

So the night after she got Ruri killed, she decided.

She may as well just be honest. A confession was in order.


	4. Suicide Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An idol on the newer side is given her 3rd-rank gifts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> suicide girl is now THE QUEEN

"Hello, Suicide Queen."

"Call me Queenie." She plopped down into the chair. Suicide Queen, an idol introduced two weeks prior. She was famous for her blatant masochism and self-hatred, as well as a thick Osaka accent that counterbalanced her innocent appearance. Lilac hair and lolita skirts, she was a sociopath's dream come true. Thus, her rise to fame had been quick. She loved working at the Guro Idol company more than anyone else, after all.

"Right." May blinked, flipping through some papers. "You've been doing good."

"I'm tryin' my best!" She cackled, with a nasally tone. Onstage she used a more soft voice, but normally she was very...annoying. May sighed.

"We wanted to congratulate you-"

"WOOOOOOO!" She kicked her chair over, running towards the door.

"Wait."

Queenie paused, blinking in confusion.

"I thought it was my birthday."

"No. It's not your birthday. It's better!" May wore a fake grin, somewhat wanting to kill this hyperactive young girl. Queenie plopped back into the chair, but not before actually standing it up. "You're a Rank 3!"

The screams that ensued were unimaginable. May had to cover her ears. "Yes, good work, you can now stop sitting next to Yoshika all the time! Please QUIET DOWN."

"This is the bestest day a' my life!" Queenie buried her face in her hands, sobbing with a smile spread across her cheeks. If she weren't so popular, May would immediately have her exterminated, noisy little bitch she was. "Soon 'm gonna be Rank 4! And then, and THEN, I'll be Rank 5! And me an' Sen will be buddies, and then..." She tipped backwards in the chair, landing on the floor with a loud 'thump'. "Then Checkers is gonna liiiiiike meeeeee..."

"...Yeah. Sure. Are you gonna get out of my office now?"

"No, you gotta introduce me to all my new friends! And my new bedroom! And my new stuff! And all of the cool new outfits I can download for Pinky Pinky's ID sprites!"

"...You can change Pinky Pinky's outfit?"

"Sure! You didn't know that? There's also some games on 'ere!" She began tapping some buttons, a bit of 8-bit music playing after a bit. May sighed, leaning back into her chair. This girl was impossible.

"Look, Queenie. Why don't you go find out for yourself? It'll be fun."

"You forgotta give me my badge!"

May paused. Then she remembered. Yeah, they handed out shitty plastic badges whenever someone went a rank up. Mallory made so many of those you'd think she was being paid for it.

"Right." She opened one of the drawers, fishing around until she pulled out one of the badges. It was shaped like a star, and on the front read "GOOD" in English lettering. She slid it over to Queenie, who pinned it to her breast with pride, pocketing the one she got last time. "There. Now please go."

"Alright- Oh, wait!" May was about to return to her work, then disappointed to find Queenie was not yet leaving. She pulled out a box, wrapped in bloody linen. "I pooled all my credits to make lunch for Checkers, can you give it to 'im for me?"

May stared at the box. Checkers was about as interested in Queenie as he was in quantum physics - as in, not at all. But she supposed, if Queenie had her heart broken, at least Mallory would get a kick out of it. She weighed her options, finally deciding to do as Queenie told her.

"Okay, I'll give it to him when I see him, just get out of my office."

"Oh, thank you!" Queenie kissed May on the cheek, leaving a lilac lipstick mark on her skin. May kind of wanted to puke. "You're the best person I've ever met! I love you so so so so so much!"

"Please, just go!"

"Alright! Bye bye!" She jumped away, humming a tune to herself. May sighed once more. What a piece of work.

-

-

"Hey. Checkers."

He looked up for a moment. It was Miss May, holding something wrapped in a red-stained sheet. "Suicide Queen hit Rank 3 and wanted me to give you something from her." He groaned. Her gifts were always...terrible. Cockroach corpses, other people's fingers, hell, she might have sliced off the skin on her vagina one time. If he himself weren't so dubious, he'd call her a freak of nature.

The box stank. Holding his face away from it, he hastily unwrapped the sheets. The actual box was bright pink and covered in flowers, with a little sticky note taped to it. In shaky handwriting, it read, "you stole my heart!!".

Inside of it was plastic chopsticks, and internal organs. From their poor condition, Checkers could tell they were Queenie's.


	5. Marchen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new girl is introduced to the company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pardon my awful Google Translate German(TM) i just thought this was funny rip
> 
> i just needed to get back in the mood for writing this

"Alright, take her, Mars." Moon waved their hands towards a new girl. She wore a red cape and a little dress, though now entirely barefoot. She was pulled along by a chain around her throat, as Mars began to drag her through the halls.

"This is the hallway."

She blinked.

"Was?"

"...Um...uh..."

"Ro-ka..." She muttered, twiddling her fingers together. One of the few idols to be brought from the west, Marchen barely spoke a lick of Japanese. So, naturally, everything that came out of Mars' mouth simply sounded like gibberish.

"Hallway." He held his arms out. "This is hallway. You are stupid. Hallway. Stupid. Hallway. Stupid."

"...Flur?" She motioned towards the hall.

"Sure. Whatever."

"Aaah." Marchen nodded, speaking in a butchered Japanese accent. "I know that."

"The hallway takes you to the rooms. Roooooms."

"...Hey ya!" She waved. Mars put his hand over his nose. Absolutely fucking incompetent. Looks like he needed the dreaded translation book for this one. Luckily, Moon gave it back. 

"Zimmer." He frantically motioned towards one of the doors. "Flur. Zimmer. See? I good."

"Oh! Ich verstehe!"

"Yeah, yeah, ick verstayhay or whatever. Here is bedroom..." He began flicking through pages. "Bedroom, bedroom... Shla...shu-la-fu-zimmer." He squinted. "The fuck is this fuckin' language...?"

"Schlafzimmer."

"Yeah, yeah. Jesus this is a pain. Okay, um...sterben, uh, geld verdinen."

"Ich will nicht sterben!" 

"Um..." He flicked through some more pages. "...You gotta." Marchen simply responded by sticking her tongue out. "Oh don't give me that."

"Fick dich."

"Okay, that is definitely a swear word, and I'm gonna kick your ass." She proceeded to step on his foot. Hard.

"Dah-mmy."

This was going to be tough.


	6. In Private

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two third-ranks are caught making love. Mallory doesn't take it well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so we have german shitlord and now american shitlord
> 
> im not apologizing for google translate german in every chapter with Marchen ok this is the last time
> 
> this is where it starts getting especially violent btw. vomit/emetophobia and female genital mutilation warning.

"A janitor's closet is 'n awful place to do it, y'know."

"Don't be such a sourpuss." She made sure the door was tightly shut and locked. "It's dark, it's secretive, it's romantic, and it's risky."

"Sam, I-"

"Shoosh shoosh shoosh." She put a finger to his lips. "Shooshie shoosh. No tears. Only dreams."

"Alright, alright." He sighed, nervously fumbling with the zipper on his uniform pants. His girlfriend giggled innocently. Samantha and Yan, in love at last. So small and disgusting they were. 

She parted her tanned legs, a hot pink thong separating the halves of her body. Her fingers dipped below her skirt, spreading apart her haunches to reveal a rosy pink undercarriage beneath her tan lines and fat vaginal lips. Yan blinked, staring his woman in her peridot-shaded eyes. Slowly, agonizingly, she pinched her minimalist underwear between two fingers, shifting it off to the side. 

"Come 'n get it."

"Shouldn't we perform proper foreplay first?" 

"We can't be here too long, or we'll get caught, right?" She smirked, her lips a pastel pink.

"...R-right, I-"

Suddenly, a voice was behind the door.

"Aaaaaand, this is the janitor's closet."

The two lovers remained motionless and soundless. There was no method of escape other than a ventilation system that couldn't fit a toddler inside of it. The voice repeated. "Janitor's closet. Besenkammer."

"Ah! Besenkammer. Open it?"

"Alright, I can open it, let me just..." Click. Click. "Someone's locked the door. One sec." 

"What do we do?" Yan whispered, recognizing Mars' harsh tone even through a doorway.

"I-I don't know! I mean, the rules don't technically say we can't fuck, right?"

"We don't have protection, Sam! They wouldn't give us any!"

Click.

"And this is the besenkammer's inside-- What the fuck?"

"Sie ist nackt." The person beside Mars giggled. "Was für eine Hure."

"...'s ain't what it looks like!" Yan shouted from behind Sam, who was sitting in a compromising position and too terrified to move.

"You're doing it. Without permission, or paying the credits for some condoms." Mars crossed his arms. "And you know how we respond to pregnancies in this company. Shame on you two. Put your clothing back in place and stand up."

Sam nervously began adjusting her laced thong, and Yan zipped his trousers closed. They both stood in a line. "Good. Now I'm going to call Mallory, and if you move one fucking inch I'll whip you black and blue, understand?"

Sam swallowed, before the two both said "yes".

"Marchen! We're going to the torture chamber! Folterkammer!"

The new girl looked highly uncomfortable.

"F-folterkammer? Warum haben wir eine Folterkammer?"

"I know, it's great. Try not to get too familiar with it though." He pulled out a cell phone, tapping a few buttons. "Mallory? Mallory. We've got two kids banging without permission or protection. Samantha and Yan. The rank two kids. One is an American and the other is a banchou. The really short banchou, yeah. We'll be down in a minute."

He hung up.

"You two are coming with me." He pulled out a set of handcuffs, chaining them together. The chain attaching them had another hanging off, which he then used to drag them down the hall by their wrists. Marchen followed by his side, ruffling her red cape and whistling a happy tune. The two lovers looked at one another nervously.

"We've gotta..." Sam lowered her voice to a whisper. "We've gotta get out of here."

"We can't! We'll be in _double trouble!_ "

"You're no delinquent, you're just a pansy! Here, watch." She tugged the cuffs, hard enough to pull the chain link out of Mars' hands. However, as soon as she began to walk, he slammed his foot onto her back, sending her careening towards the floor.

"For fuck's sakes."

His foot connected with her side harshly, nailing a bruise into her rib that emanated from a steel-toed shoe. "Bitches can't stay in one place. You, yankee boy. Keep her in line or else." Again, he kicked her, directly in the stomach as she rolled over. The chain curled in his sweaty fist, as he once again began to walk.

Yan nervously stared at his girlfriend, then hoisting her over his shoulder as she vomited on the floor behind him. 

-

-

The torture chamber was dark. Mars flicked a cheap light on as him and his underlings walked in. Marchen twiddling her fingers, Yan holding Sam's hand, and Sam staggering in a pair of pink high-heels and barely holding herself upright. Off in the corner, a massive, hulking figure stood at a desk, doing something with her hands and grunting.

"Good. Good. Good. Good. Good." She mumbled into her meaty hands.

"Mallory."

"Hi." She threw a few plastic badges behind her. "They all say 'Good' like someone did something fucking wonderful. Ain't that the saddest?"

"Right. You'd ought to deal with these two." Mars shoved Yan forward slightly. "Almost got one of the sows pregnant. She agreed to it, too. She knew."

"A'ight, and who's the third one?"

"A bystander."

Marchen stared between them, blinking.

"Was sagen Sie?"

"Um." Yan blinked, Sam practically falling over his shoulder. "Ich bin ein Michael Jackson." The poor girl now just looked even more confused, deciding to just step away from the two.

Mallory stood, at least 7 feet in height and towering all the way to the low ceiling. Her face was greasy, and covered in lesions, her eyes blocked by a sheet of thick bangs that hung to her nose. Her lips were chapped, and everything about her was incredibly thick. Tree trunk legs, meaty arms, and a neck like a telephone pole. Yan had never met her before, but he was already fucking scared.

"So 's just the two bastards with the bleached hair, mm." She knelt down to their level. Her breath was hot, and stank of something filthy. "You li'l bitches interruptin' my lunchtime. Better make this worth it." She turned to Mars, and even he looked uncomfortable. "Remove the cuffs."

"Right." He suddenly hopped into action, fuddling around with the cuff-locks until they fell to the ground. "Samantha, get off of your boyfriend, you should be fucking fine by now."

"You kicked me really hard." She whined, burying her face into Yan's shoulder. "I've had enough for today, I won't fuck again."

Mallory grinned. Then chuckled. Then laughed. Then cackled to the skies, her hands on her stomach. So loudly, so raucously that tears rolled down her scar-ridden face. "What's so fucking funny?" Sam's eye twitched. "I'm not joking."

"Sounds like you are." Mallory grabbed her shoulder. She held her there, but slowly, Sam began to shout at her.

"Hey. Hey! That fucking hurts! Let go of me, let-" She was cut off by the sound of a harsh snap. Mallory rose her foot to Sam's shoulder, pushing until it dislocated from its socket. Her left arm hung down limply, and she lacked the words to explain what just happened.

"You'd better be wearing waterproof mascara." The American dream girl fell to the ground, landing on her dislocated shoulder. She hissed in pain as Mallory kicked her harshly in the head. Her expression was as if her brain had just rattled around like a maraca, as she attempted to put together the words to describe her hatred. She had nothing but a bit of drool.

"M-miss Mallory." Yan rose his hand.

"Mm?" Mallory turned around. "Has the yankee boy got anythin' to say?"

"You really don't need to...Do that to Sammy, I-I'll take the brunt of the punishment." He held his arms out. Once again, Mallory fell into a bout of hyena-like laughter, spitting directly onto his face. "W-what?"

"Alright, then. I guess torturin' you ain't much of a punishment if you're askin' for it, huh?"

"It'd still hurt."

"But it wouldn't hurt enooouuuugh." She rubbed her chin. "I need somethin' interesting for you. I've got just the thing!" She ran off to the other end of the room. A dresser drawer sat beneath a dimming lightbulb. She stood up after a few moments, holding a pair of scissors.

"What're those for, Mallory." Mars' gaze read disappointment. "Just scissors?"

"Well, Yan," She handed the scissors to the young boy, who still looked utterly perplexed. "is going to give his girlfriend a vaginoplasty."

"A what?"

"He's gonna snip her labia off. And if he doesn't, he's exterminated for good."

She spread a toothy grin across her face, dropping the scissors onto Yan's feet. He stared to the ground as she walked back and forth, binding his girlfriend to the wall. He had no words. "Aw." Mallory whined, tearing away Sam's underwear with her bare hands. "Her pussy is uneven. You're doing her a favor."

Her chest rose and fell at a wild speed. He was faced with a choice: Die, or mutilate his own girlfriend. "Mommy ain't got all day." Mallory's gruff voice tore through his ears.

"I don't want to die."

"That's what I like to hear!" He picked up the scissors, all the while Mallory gave him a sarcastic applause. "Snip snip, time's a-wastin'."

He sighed. Sam looked tired. He didn't want to do this. Even if the other option was far less favorable, he didn't want this. But with her eyes all glazed over and her mouth dripping, he felt, maybe, she wouldn't notice.

Deftly and cleanly he pried apart Sam's nether regions, revealing an uneven albeit bright pink and healthy vagina. With a shaking hand he held the scissors, dotted with foreign blood from tortures prior. She whined, dazed and tired.

"Oi, honey..." Her head moved slightly. "Honey."

"Sorry."

He buried the blades between her legs, refusing to look her in the eye. The slimy, pink flesh hung down as he pulled it taut like a string. She stared down at him, beginning to comprehend the situation.

"...No, no, no no no."

Snip.

The skin plopped to the ground, with a disgusting slimy noise. Sam lurched against the binding, spewing watery bile from her mouth and nose. It slightly got on Yan's left arm, and he panted, shaking violently. Her eyes were wide, every shine in her iris seeming to move on its own. Mallory snickered in the background, picking up the detached piece of meat on the ground.

"Hungry, kid?"

She crammed the flesh into his mouth, and he thoughtlessly ground his teeth on it. "'s still some left in there, may as well carve it clean, eh?"

"Yan-tan." Sam whined, blood spurting from her crotch. "You're not okay with this, right? You said you'd die for me, r-right?"

"I didn't say I'd die for your labia..." Yan blinked. Sam's chest heaved once more.

"B-but these people aren't even medically trained! What if I get an infection, or..."

"Quit yer yappin'!" Mallory grabbed the scissors. "Loverboy's too fuckin' slow, I guess he'll just have to watch." The shining blades dove into Sam's crotch faster than a gun round, Mallory laughing through her jagged teeth as she snipped away at the poor girl's nether regions. Pieces of flesh plopped to the ground as she shouted into the darkness of the chamber.

Yan turned to look away. Mars was staring uncomfortably, scratching his neck. The new girl was pulling on his arm, shouting at him.

"Sie sind ihr weh! Tu etwas!" 

Mallory finally backed away.

"A work of fuckin' art. Wanna have a look, banchou baby?" She pulled Yan over by the front of his shirt.

Poor Sam's vagina was absolutely mangled. Two sheared flaps sat on the side of her bloodied entrance, which was also squirting claret from its interior. The edges of her clitoral hood's remains bled, as it had been roughly torn off. Her pubic mound was chopped clean off. Yan had no words to describe how ill he felt, nor did he have any actions to express it. He did not vomit, he did not cry, he simply shut down. 

"Yan-tan, d-does it look bad?"

He said nothing.

"Yan-tan?"

"I'm going upstairs."

He walked away. Mallory and Sam stared at him as he walked off.

"People like him are the worst. Thinkin' they can use these situations to act like a martyr." Mallory undid the bounds, as Sam fell to the floor, in a crumpled heap of sanguine fluid, vomit and tears. "I thought that once. It was dumb."

"Well, Marchen? What did you think?"

She stared at the unconscious girl on the floor, grasping for words that they could all understand. Finally, she breathed.

"I'm _scared_."


	7. Washing the Dog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chika gets paid to clean out Butch's bedroom, and finds the unsavory conditions he's kept in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for self-harm. and poop. and butch having sexual issues.

"And a thousand extra credits, you say?"

"Yes. A thousand. Just clean out his chamber, please. It smells too fuckin' awful."

"Fine, I'll do it."

A thousand credits would make her do anything. That was enough for hundreds of little cakes. Hey, if she lost her perfect figure she could just slice that shit clean off. It was genius, undoubtedly.

The halls were endless. Down stairs, and then down more stairs, and through the punishment chamber.

"Say, is that the chick from America?"

"Yeah, probably." Moon muttered nonchalantly. However, they didn't stop walking, and Chika found there was little choice but to continue following right behind. Slowly, the person left her view. Then down another flight of stairs, and another.

The basement was dark, and surrounded by cameras. The only thing in it was an elevator.

"This's the only way to get to our offices." Moon grunted. "We's always watchin' down here. So if youse try'n to come again..." They mashed their fist into their palm, expression remaining unchanged. "Scary things happen."

"Right." The two entered. Immediately, Chika attempted to reach for the highest button.

"No. It's in the middle."

"The middle?"

"Yeah. If these bitches even manage t' get into our elevator, the floors 'r all mixed up. The middle one gets to th' experimentation areas. Where Butch ol' buddy lives."

The elevator descended, slowly as to not make noises. Moon appeared to be weaving a bracelet, possibly with human hair, as the machine fell into darkness. Then, after minutes and minutes of emptiness and silence, the doors shifted open. Immediately the cramped space was filled with numerous pungent odors, which Chika could only compare to a cross between a hospital and a public bathroom. "He's off in the back."

Most of the rooms were poorly cleaned, with other children running around, defecating, crying, yelling, self-harming, and lord knew what else. The very back room was blocked by bulletproof glass, and a padlock. A few holes allowed the young boy to breathe.

He was shaved by the workers, but other than that looked extremely unkempt. His skin dug inward towards his bones, emaciated beyond belief. Scruffy brown hair covered his scalp, as his back faced the glass. The walls and glass were painted with feces, urine, blood, and semen. The bastard was jacking off in the corner, grunting and whining like some sort of animal.

"...This is horrible."

"Don't try 'n lecture me. He was no good for anythin'." Moon unlocked the glass door, shoving Chika inside. Immediately the horrid stenches became ten times worse, as Butch turned his head. His eyes were surrounded by a grey circle.

"...Hi." Chika shut the door behind her. Butch rolled onto his hands and knees, nude body noticeably covered in scars, bruises and marks. Moon was pushing a hose through one of the holes in the glass. She grabbed it, gazing at the trigger on its side and pointing it at Butch's face. Immediately he rolled onto his back, spreading his legs out. What the fuck was he doing?

"Don't hurt me." He whispered, voice raspy and harsh. "Make you feel good."

"Huh? No, I'm just gonna-" She pressed the trigger. Water came out fast, and forcefully enough to feel as though it were piercing the skin, directly into Butch's face. She hastily let go. "Holy _shit!_ "

He covered his face, shaking and twitching.

"I'll do better."

"Moon, is there a softer setting on this thing?" Chika turned to the glass wall.

"...No." They replied, blinking. "Who cares?"

"Get me like, a sponge and bucket or something."

"We're not givin' this bastard no special privilege just because he acts sad."

"This is inhumane on so many levels."

"And Yoshika sucked a dick. Do your job or no money."

She weighed her options, ignoring the concept of Yoshika sucking dick. In the end, she really needed the credits. There was no room for kindness. She pressed on the hose nozzle, gently holding Butch down with her free hand. He howled straight to the ceiling, screaming and crying and writhing around like an animal. Due to the excessive force, most of the dirt was quickly gone. Finally done with that, she turned her attention to cleaning the walls.

Her face turned away. Soon enough she felt a hand on her thigh. The bastard was humping her leg.

"Ew. Ew, ew, ew, stop." She shoved him away, continuing to force-destroy all of the filth on the walls. Soon enough Butch was back, rubbing his crotch against her ankle. She sighed, reaching down and scratching the back of his neck like a cat. "Little weirdo."

It didn't take long to get all of the grossness away. However, it took longer to make Butch go away. Perhaps she had gotten too friendly with him. The guy had never had kindness in his life, aside from the occasional rape-bait onstage, so this was like some kind of rare privilege. It was a little while of playing until Moon finally came in, looking annoyed. They pressed a cattleprod to his body, electrocuting him multiple times until he finally fell unconscious.

"You people with your feelin's." They rolled their eyes. "He's just a dog. A fuck-pet. An extra. Nothin' else useful."

"Did you ever consider that there's more to life than use?"

"The rest a' society would disagree."

The two made their exit, locking the door.


	8. The Eighth Son

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A private show and an ex-heir to a company. At least, he was the eighth in line.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one's got a lot of intestines and penis
> 
> also it took so long that i kind of gave up at the end

He was always eight spots behind.

In a massive conglomerate, he was the eighth child born. Behind three brothers and four sisters ahead of him. His eldest brother then died of cancer, and the inheritance went to his eldest sister. She was scary. But one day he found that, no matter how hard she struck him, he'd be alright the next day. He didn't understand. All he understood was that his father sold him off for his incredible gift.

Miss Lisette offered a high price, and he was so far down the line that dad simply handed him over. He was simply dead weight.

He woke up remembering his misfortune, a full year later. Every morning it was the same for Hachirou, the eighth son, the excommunicated son. He would roll over. He'd stare at his hands, and he'd bury his face into his palms. Nothing ever changed.

"Hey Eight-Ball." Mars shoved his head into the door, sliding a paper slip under his pillow. "You've got a private show tonight. Old man bought you for a good two hours."

"Right." He rolled out of bed, shuffling off to the dining hall.

Always quiet, always calm, always solemn, that's how people saw him. He was a Rank 4. Everyone expected him to be happy, but it never felt rewarding. He was whoring himself out with his blood. He was nothing better than a prostitute. He rarely ever spoke to his peers.

However, he needed someone to pass the salt. He tapped somebody.

"Salt, please."

"...Who are you again?"

Needless to say, the days passed slowly. Mostly he slept and felt bad about himself. He was a very common order, working in a similar vein as Chika. Perhaps because he was high-class and well-known. So clean and pretty, and sad. Like a butterfly with its wings chopped off, left lying on the ground with nowhere to go.

The night rolled around, and he began making his way out of the building. On the way over he observed a few things. Yan was outside, staring beside the building. Yoshika was tapping Chika on her shoulder and asking her to go somewhere. Chika had stains on her shoes, and Queenie was sitting in the lounge, drawing something and showing off a plastic badge. Sam appeared to be nursing a rather unfortunate wound, and there was also a new girl, finally being checked in by Mars.

A black car slid up to pick him up.

"Hachirou, right?"

"Yeah." He rubbed his arm, crawling into the back seat.

The cheery light of the alleyway telekura slowly disappeared in the night as he was driven away. He stared into the night as the soft gaze of apartment lamps flew through the sky. The stranger listened to absolute crap, and Hachirou swore he was dying a little bit every time he flicked his MP3 to a different AKB48 song. He decided to take a short nap, as they would be driving for awhile. The kind embrace of lethargy pulled him to its bosom, as he rested his face on the seat to his left.

It felt like months before he woke. He woke in complete darkness. Confused, he attempted to rub his eyes, however, his arms were held down by a harsh metal. The room was cold, and looked very empty.

"Good boy." A deep voice grunted from the black abyss. Hands, most likely gloved, slid down his bared chest. Suddenly, something slid up his face. His eyes burnt in the high light, as he realized he had been blindfolded. Hastily he blinked away a stray tear. Shockingly, the space was small, and very well-decorated, with white couches and shimmering chandeliers. "Such a good little thing."

"Mmh..." He chewed on a fabric strap in his mouth. His lips couldn't even touch each other. Suddenly a swarm of men surrounded him, all nude, covered with body hair and sweat. Hachirou was tall, but even so, these men dwarfed him by a meter or so. Not to mention that, due to his lanky figure, they could clearly snap his spine in half like a twig.

"He's got some nice skin."

One of them flattened their hand on his stomach, leaving a warm print on his nude abdomen. "I'd make a suit out of him."

"Yeah, you could tell 'em it was pig skin." Another rolled the fabric out of Hachirou's mouth, shoving a finger between his lips. "He's got the face of a back-alley slut."

He knew what these men liked. 

"Please be gentle."

They began to grin and laugh, realizing what a nice catch they had gotten. Hachirou pressed his cheek to his shoulder, trying to look somewhat innocent. Perhaps, he was better as a piece of meat than an heir. It was almost refreshing, knowing his place in life wasn't necessary.

A scalpel pressed through his flesh, puncturing it with a slight sting. At this point, Hachirou found that in comparison to all of the other tortures, things like this were refreshing. It pried open, slightly more painful, as his skin began to tear where it was pulled too tightly. The open guts seemed to flutter with activity in the lamp light. His lungs, in particular, like hummingbird's wings in a cage, heaved and shuddered when exposed to air.

"What a set of guts you have." One of them chuckled. "All workin' like they've got someplace to be."

Their hands were rough, removing everything they could reach. Though it was painful, yes, most of it was sort of lingering and dull. Things just couldn't shock him anymore. He'd been in this business for too long. 

They had a little hammer. Some sort of harsh metal, Hachirou assumed. What a creative way to remove his ribs. The mallet head fell down to earth like a comet, with such precision that it bore straight into the bone, like breaking a glass window. He sputtered, cruor dribbling onto his chin.

The fragments drove into his lungs, slicing and pouring sanguine fluid into his breaths as he coughed and hacked into his hands. The men laughed in his face, like one would to a dog that just ran into a wall. His face went pale with a lack of blood running through his veins. Suddenly, one of them spoke.

"Hacchan." His voice was deep, whispering into his ear. "You don't mind if I do you, right?"

"D-do...?" Suddenly he was overcome by a wild sensation. The man wormed his chubby fingers through Hachirou's ass. Immediately his back arched, his shoulders twitching. "Oh, oh, oh oh..." 

"If I hook my finger in the right place it'll feel real good." It most certainly did. His empty abdomen and chest pointed towards the sky, bits of his ribs falling apart and rolling across his lungs and onto the floor. "Fuck, you're adorable. I can barely hold back in front of you, Hacchan."

"Don't hog the kid." Another one spoke.

"Hey, I paid for him." 

"You gotta lick it."

"I ain't gonna lick his shit-hole." 

"Then share."

They bickered like children. Hachirou wanted to put his hands to his face, but he was held down.

"I won't...Hey, is the kid cryin'? We aren't even doin' anything."

He blinked, then scraping his face against his shoulder. It was wet. "Aw, kid, don't cry. Y'still got your lungs."

"He probably feels bad about himself." One of them grinned, tapping on his phone. "He was an Oinuma, after all."

"Seriously? You paid that little for an _Oinuma_?"

"Their youngest son. I'd be depressed too, if I lost an inheritance like that to get cut open and banged by complete fucking strangers."

"He does kinda look like Oinuma Haruto-san, huh. Nice catch, Matsuhara."

Matsuhara stood over Hachirou, imposing like a grizzly bear. Hachirou shut his eyes, facing away from the man. He didn't want to think about what would come next, even if they'd made it very clear.

"No, Hacchan, look at me." He grabbed Hachirou's cheeks, pulling his face forward. "Good boy." He began driving into the smaller boy's backside, a burning, prodding sensation. No lubrication other than blood slowly dribbling down to the floor. Hachirou's face contorted in agony, and then his chest pointed to the sky, body rejecting the foreign insertion.

His intestines were wrapped around his lower body to tighten his asshole, but it really just caused him more pain. It held his weary body to the table he was placed on, as Matsuhara rammed in and out of his half-corpse like the pistons of an engine.

And then he woke up.

The lights were out. His body felt strange, and when he looked inside he found his guts had been crudely stuffed back in, and his cadaver stapled shut. The hop of a speedbump hit him like an oncoming train, and he shouted into the abyss. However, all that came out was a wheezy whine. His legs stuck together with something thick and gluey, smelling harshly of gore and bitterness. His suit was gently folded beside him into a square.

"We're almost there, kid. You're such a damned lightweight, it was like fucking a dead kid."

"S-sorry."

"I'll have to ask the lady to cut the pay." There was a sigh from the driver's seat. "And we'll be seeing each other at least one more time."


	9. So Happy I Could Die

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the silence of the night
> 
> Through all the tears and all the lies
> 
> I touch myself and it's alright

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> queenie proves to be an absolute freak by shedding blood on checkers' face every night basically
> 
> its short tho because the last one took 5ever

Every night she woke at three in the morning. It had become habit.

Cautiously, as not to shift the bunk bed, she slid out on tiptoes in her translucent nightgown with a razorblade in her hands. Her eyes became accustomed to the dark hastily, as she peered into the hall. Between the women's and men's dormitory was a staircase, which she had fallen down more times than necessary. She scuttled past in heavy silence, as not to disturb her superiors.

Each Rank 5 got their own bedroom. Checkers lived on the rightmost end of the hall. His room was very clean, with a classy wallpaper. His checkered vests hung in the closet, as he slumbered quietly, like an angel in wait. She crept to his side, smiling.

"You look just like my boyfriend..." She whispered, putting her hand to his face. Every time she saw him her undercarriage moistened like the humid tropics, and she wanted him inside, she wanted him to fuck her until she was dead. Laying on her side, bleeding out, with him twisting her womb inside-out so harshly that it flopped right out of her body. She wanted him to want her so bad that he'd kill her for it.

But it was too soon. This was her way of showing her appreciation.

Her decora nails were abnormally sharp, but not enough to break the skin. That's what her razor was for. She drew the blade across her lip, and it dribbled with a gentle shade of red, like the warm light of a forest cottage. A kind, friendly and inviting light.

She new everything about him. Nobody else could love him like she did. She knew his name (Chance Kerning), his birthday (November 18th), where he was born (Some far-off subcontinent), his natural hair color (Blonde), his favorite food (Nothing), she knew every last thing about him. Her bruised lips stained with the scarlet ichor, as she leaned down to love him.

His mouth was soft, and dry. When she released the kiss, his teeth were stained with a layer of cruor. She smiled. "I love you."

She crawled in beside him, rolling her nightgown up to her chest. The razor slid across her belly as though she were committing modern _seppuku_. Her hand bore into the shallow hole of her cadaver, covered in the filthy fluids of her body. With a horrendous squishing sound, it then came back out, covered in a greasy wad of blood and some sort of mucus. She swiped her hand across his face, leaving an ugly stain on his cheek.

"...Before I become a Rank 5, I'm definitely losing my virginity to you." She kissed him on his forehead, and tiptoed away, leaving the gore-covered razor on his bedside table and the remains of chapstick on his head.


	10. The Working Man's Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Four of the lesser employees have a talk at the workplace.

"And then Mallory tells me I can't drink on the job." The janitor hissed into his hands. "She does it all the time! Is it because she's immortal and I ain't?"

"The smell of blood is easier to handle when you're drunk, Kinoshita." The nurse replied, picking at a roll of melon bread with her dainty nails. "Besides, I'd imagine a drunk man would make more messes than he would clean them."

"Whatever." Kinoshita took a swig of whiskey from a flask, grunting as he did so. 

"You think that's bad? Hedvig doesn't even get to come inside." 

"I didn't agree to be part of this conversation." Hedvig growled, twisting a lock of her dark hair between her fingers. "I really don't care."

"But it's winter, don't you get cold?"

"...Not really. You're north of where I'm from, what the hell kind of question is that?" 

Someone tugged on the nurse's sleeve. She turned around, not answering Hedvig's question. It was one of the idols - a younger one, with dark skin and black hair. She also appeared to be bleeding profusely from the mouth.

" _Herregud!_ " 

"Miss Sonja, I got in the trouble with Mallory again."

"Oh my lord, yes, I-I'll attend to that right away. I am so sorry." Sonja stood up, grabbing the girl and throwing her over her shoulder. For a nurse, Sonja was surprisingly muscular. She could probably be a female tennis player if she wanted to. "I'll be back in a minute, Hedvig can eat my food."

"Yes!" Hedvig grabbed the bread, shoving it into her mouth. "Wooooo!"

"I swear some'n like that happens every day." The chef finally spoke. Despite his profession, he was pathetically nibbling on a singular rice ball like a high school student on a budget. "Mallory gets such a high pay doin' more harm than good."

"That's the point of this company."

"I want a pay raise, I have a wife and kids."

"Kids are a liability, Hamasaki. Condoms are free. Consider using one."

"Don't talk shit about my kids! I'll-"

The loudspeaker turned on.

"This is a message for Hamasaki Yori and Hedvig Engmann: Stop fighting or I'll kill you. Bye!" And click, it was off. Hamasaki silently sat down, grumbling into his meager supply of food. 

"...Well, this tension is gross. I'm leavin'!" Kinoshita backed off of the table, shoving his flask into his pocket.

"There is no tension. I'm leaving."

Hedvig was one tough cookie.


End file.
